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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140933">The Trip to Beta Colony</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson'>fawatson</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ethan of Athos - Lois McMaster Bujold, Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:41:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140933</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan and Terrence C's trip to Beta Colony.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Yuletide 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Trip to Beta Colony</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spatz/gifts">Spatz</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Request:</b> I would love a story about their trip to Beta Colony and back to Athos, with Terrence learning how to trust Ethan. </p><p><b>Disclaimer:</b> I do not own these characters and make no profit by them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A fast ship had been scheduled to leave for Beta Colony a half-day after they saw Elli Quinn off on her transport, but that would have meant leaving the EQ1 culture in the hands of the lab and picking it up on his return; having gone through all he had to acquire it, Ethan found himself very loathe to do this.  For his part, Terrence was equally loathe (possibly even more reluctant) to trust the Bharaputra cultures would still be in cold storage if he left them on Kline Station until they looped back.  Having entrusted them to a shipping company once only to have them go astray, feared forever lost, he was not about to let them out of his sight again.  48 hours after Elli Quinn’s departure, Ethan and Terrence boarded a slow freighter headed toward Escobar, each with one compact bag containing personal effects and a somewhat larger freezer container containing… “frozen newts,” Ethan said succinctly to the purser, and handed over his credit chit from which was deducted a steepish charge for the additional electricity needed to run it.  </p><p>The voyage by slow freighter offered little by way of entertainment outside of the ship’s library and calisthenics.  Passengers were few in number and there were no comfortable spacious lounges in which they could mingle.  The ship’s canteen was small and too utilitarian to invite anyone to linger over the spartan meals, especially when there would be another set of diners arriving within minutes of you finishing a meal.  At the start of the voyage, inevitably, Ethan and Terrence spent many hours in the cabin they shared, reading.  Ethan perused the medical journals, catching up on 200 years of new galactic advances in medicine.  Specialist he might be considered on Athos; but the more he read, the more he realised how the health sciences on his home planet had lagged behind.  Dutifully he exercised once a day; but it was no trouble to Ethan to spend hours lying in his bed reading all about the latest surgical techniques.  </p><p>When he was not absorbed by some research article, he told Terrence all about the joys of his homeland and they discussed Terrence’s future career prospects (since he would be very unlikely to find his skills in galactic espionage terribly useful on Athos).  So firmly fixed was Ethan on medicine – and reproductive medicine at that – it had been easy for Ethan to envisage the benefits of telepathy applied to care of the newborn.  But patently that held no interest for Terrence.   Periodically Ethan read aloud to his companion when he encountered some particularly fascinating experimental methodology for treating genetic anomalies in-replicator.    Terrence was consistently polite but utterly disinterested, a fact Ethan found disconcerting given the man’s personal stake in genetic engineering and passion for Janine’s as-yet-unborn offspring.  Nonetheless, Ethan prided himself on facing up to reality: in time Terrence would undoubtedly establish a career for himself; but it was not going to be medicine. Beyond raising children as some sort of memorial to his dead wife, Terrence had no interest in anything related to the health sciences.</p><p>Athos’ economy was largely geared to primary industry, as was typical in any planet where human-kind had only recently established itself.  The older human colony planets like Cetaganda and Beta had complex economies and the sophisticated infrastructure of government bureaucracy, financial institutions and regulatory bodies this demanded.  Athos’ planetary economy was largely agricultural, with some secondary interests in things like fisheries and forestry; Ethan suggested botanical texts and animal husbandry.  Terrence did explore those options, exhausting within one week the slender selection on these subjects contained in the ship’s library.  He absorbed the information efficiently, and pointed out articles about genetic manipulations and gene splicing in cow and pig foetuses to Ethan (which sparked all kinds of ideas in the good doctor).  But having methodically read his way through the library might mean Terrence now possessed the knowledge; he clearly did not possess the passion.  </p><p>Tentatively Ethan suggested engineering as a possible career-path.  Athos had a few mines; Terrence could potentially find unskilled work there, but if he studied hard in the months they were travelling, conceivably he could take the exams that would qualify him for a technical position.  Personally, Ethan dreaded the idea.  The more time he spent with Terrence, the more he liked this young man, and the more he wanted to spend time with him.  Reproductive centres in Athos were universally located in towns and some distance from the few mines which had been deliberately sited in remote areas where any wastes they produced would be less likely to contaminate water supplies to heavily populated areas.  If Terrence developed a flair for engineering, Ethan would be unlikely to see much of him after he landed on his new planet.  If he weren’t employed in a mine, in all likelihood he would find work on some civil engineering project, building roads to open up new (remote) territories, or in a shipyard.  However, his sense of fairness led Ethan, reluctantly but dutifully, to suggest a beginner’s text on applied mathematics.  Terrence looked at him searchingly when he did; and Ethan blushed, realising that no matter how much he had tried to hide his feelings, his companion must be reading his inner reluctance.  </p><p>Ethan worried his feelings must have made Terrence distrust him.  He hated himself for it, but could not prevent checking the little bottle of tyramine Terrence kept in the cabin’s cleansing room.  He managed to stop himself from emptying it out to actually count the number of tablets left; but was disappointed at how close he came to it.  It didn’t <i>look</i> as if the contents were fewer.  But, over the next several weeks Terrence seemed to spend very little time in the cabin; and Ethan could not help worrying why.  Terrence slept there every night, but always rose early and left for the day, not returning for several hours.  Occasionally he would stay out all night, returning in the morning looking sweaty and exhausted, to make a beeline for the sonic shower before crawling into the top bunk to sleep for several hours.  No matter how curious, though, Ethan did not like to ask what had kept Terrence out all that time.  After all: he was not his keeper.  (Given his growing feelings for the man, Ethan wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.) </p><p>And so they continued, polite roommates who shared a close space, exchanging pleasantries and gradually learning a little more about one another, each hopeful in his own tentative fashion about their developing friendship, tied together with their mutual interest in the genetic materials they guarded, but neither feeling able to fully…count on the other.  Until, that is, the emergency drill that came during ship’s ‘night’ approximately two-thirds of the way through that trip, just around the time when the boring routines of ship-life had dulled one’s awareness of the perils of space, and led to passengers’ complacency (and the skipping of safety requirements).  The claxons woke Ethan abruptly from a decidedly pleasant dream of sunlit skies, warm waters, and the comforting embrace of a lithe blond man to an awareness that gravity had gone off and the emergency lighting really did <i>not</i> make it easy finding the door to his room.  He stumbled about in the dim light,  and lost time dithering over how to bring the bulky freezer unit with him, knowing he would never be allowed to take it into an escape pod but, again, reluctant to abandon it.  In the end he slipped two little boxes – one containing the EQ1 culture and one of Janine’s samples into the pocket of his bathrobe, along with his identification, before making his way to the emergency escape hatch assigned to his corridor. There, to his surprise he encountered Terrence kitted out in a fluorescent orange jacket directing a portly man and his flustered wife to stand by the escape pods. It seemed Terrence had not been avoiding him.  He had simply signed on with the crew for the duration.  </p><p>“Don’t worry,” he whispered as he came close to Terrence, “I brought Janine and Ellie,” patting his lumpy pocket. </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Terrence replied, his eyes softening in amused sympathy, “this is just a drill.”   </p><p>“I’m doing an apprenticeship,” Terrence explained when, a few hours later, he returned to their cabin to find Ethan mopping up the floor of the tiny toilet which had backed up and <i>out</i>flowed in zero gravity. “Here,” he said, gently shoving Ethan out of the way, “let me.”  </p><p>“No, I can’t let you…,” Ethan’s voice trailed off in amazement at the neatness of Terrence’s actions, not to mention the toolbelt he was wearing. </p><p>“Old ships of this kind don’t get the most up-to-date equipment,” Terrence explained.  “And in zero-gravity?  Let’s just say this isn’t the only toilet I’ve had to deal with.  That’s why the ship’s captain decided he needed another plumber’s apprentice.”  </p><p>“A plumber…,”  Ethan said wonderingly. </p><p>“Surely they need plumbers on Athos?”  Terrence replied.  “It seemed to me a useful                                                                                     skill I could pick up fairly quickly which could be parlayed into a job anywhere.”  </p><p>The rest of their trip was uneventful.  But, those slightly uncomfortable silences that had characterised their time together during the first part of the journey settled into comfortable companionship.  As the only really academically inclined of his father’s sons, Ethan had loved all his brothers but not necessarily had much in common with them.  Naturally serious-minded as he was, and the prodigy of the reproductive centres, Ethan had quickly earned promotions above the heads of peers and found himself spending more and more time with the middle-aged and elderly doctors who ran the centres.  His intellectual equals they might be, but he remained a young man, whose interest in a social life might be somewhat less than other (wilder) men his age, but certainly was very different from his older colleagues.  Now, Ethan was forced into close proximity with a man somewhat younger than he, but whose galactic experiences made him older than his years – a man who had demonstrated complete single-mindedness.  Even while he could not really comprehend Terrence’s passion for his dead wife, Ethan could admire the determination.  He was intelligent and quick to learn, an interesting conversationalist about places he had been.  He had stood out at first because of his bright hair and attractive features; now he was a friend. All in all, Ethan found himself somewhat sorry when the ship made port at Escobar.  </p><p>Their layover in Escobar was brief.  They had six days in a downside hotel before their next ship docked and they would be allowed to board.  If Kline Station had been confusing, Escobar was terrifying.  It was peaceful enough.  Unlike Kline Station there were no kidnappings and tortures, no frightening confrontations with plasma guns and needlers and men with cold, dead eyes.  But there were females <i>everywhere</i>.  </p><p>The hotel they had been booked into contained something called a spa, complete with three pools.  As a boy Ethan had lived by the water; he had learned to swim as a baby, and while he might live inland now, he had never lost his love of water.  Swimming was not just good exercise for the cardiovascular system (something which he, as a medical man, heartily approved of); it was a joy.  At home he usually swam after work at least three times a week.  If it had been a particularly stressful week, he could swim as much as five times.  Something about water soothed and relaxed and washed all the accumulated tension out of his system.  Within an hour of booking into the hotel Ethan had bought swimming trunks from the hotel shop and made his way to the rooftop spa.  He had convinced Terrence it was high time he learned to swim; the young blond man’s lithe body showed to an advantage in the swimwear. </p><p>The difficulty arose when they reached the pools: one deep pool for diving, a full-length pool with half of the lines cordoned off for serious swimmers doing lengths, and a wide pool for beginners.  Normally Ethan would have made a beeline for the long pool; but Terrence had never stepped foot in any pool ever.  Dutifully Ethan led him to one side of the shallow pool and began to teach him a basic front crawl, patiently explaining how to hold his hands, and keep his legs straight while kicking.  Had they been the only people using the pool he thought Terrence would have grasped opening his eyes underwater and how to time his breathing quite quickly.  But of course, as one could expect with any beginners’ pool, there were children, most of whom had no interest in learning to swim and were just splashing about in excitement, watched by… females.  (Mothers, Ethan corrected himself; he must remember to call them mothers.)  Or not watched, as the case may be, when he saw one little boy, a couple of feet away, struggling to keep his head above water. (God the Father, when a healthy, active little boy almost drowned because he’d been left in the care of a female it was no wonder the galaxy had problems!)  Ethan helped the coughing, sputtering lad to the side and told him to hang on tight while he looked around trying to spot the parent who was responsible for the child.  There was a small group of them there, clustered at the side, reading magazines and <i>talking</i>, Ethan realised indignantly.  Even as he looked though, one female rushed over, eyes furious, to accuse him of trying to interfere with her son.  The boy, having realised the edge of the pool had three steps leading down which let him find the bottom with his feet, had recovered his confidence and was now back to bouncing, and was happily splashing Terrence.  Roughly she pulled her protesting offspring from the pool and dragged him off to the dressing room, scolding all the while.  Ethan would have protested, but Terrence shook his head – best let it be.  </p><p>Basics mastered, Terrence left and Ethan transferred to the long pool for lengths.  Conscious as he had been of Terrence’s beauty in his swim-trunks, Ethan was blithely unaware of the admiring glances that followed his own figure.  The low arc of his racing dive at one end of the pool showed of his own well-toned, nicely proportioned body and men and women alike admired as he butterflied back and forth at great speed, length after length.  Ethan was an exceptional swimmer.  </p><p>Twenty lengths done, Ethan pulled himself out of the water to sit on the side, feet dangling in the water.  </p><p>“You’re very good.”</p><p>Ethan looked up and quailed inwardly.  The female’s wide smile was, he was sure, meant to welcome, but why him?  </p><p>“Care to join us?”  </p><p>It came from the other side and he turned to see a brunette bending with a wink and a head twitch, to gesture to a whole <i>group</i> of females seated at a table near the wall.  </p><p>“N-n-no…” Ethan was dismayed to hear himself stammer (he thought he had outgrown that years ago).  “I’ve not finished yet,” and he slipped hastily back into the water and swam quickly to the other end of the pool, before getting out and retreating first to the dressing area, and then the room he shared with Terrence.  </p><p>The next morning Terrence Cee left the hotel early, while a few phone calls set up a meeting between Ethan and Escobar Bio-Labs Inc. later the same day. If his search for a reliable provider of ovarian cultures ended here, he might be able to make the return journey to Athos before six months had elapsed.  Ethan had been telling himself he was coping well with his galactic adventure; when he realised the Escobar outfit, huge by Athosian standards, nonetheless was too small to provide the diversity he needed to find, the depth of his disappointment brought home to him how much he missed his homeland.  </p><p>Ethan changed into his trunks and headed for the spa as soon as he arrived back at the hotel – and turned tail and almost ran back to his room when he saw all the women poolside. There were a few other men using the diving pool when he tried later.  He had always preferred lengths to diving but one sight of the cluster of women’s faces at the tables by the long pool and he decided it was time to brush up his high dive (after all: discretion was the better part of valour).  However, it appeared a few females also fancied diving.  Thereafter Ethan never went to the pool without Terrence Cee who, despite his youth and peculiar upbringing, just seemed so much more able to deal with the women who inevitably converged on them.  </p><p>“Do you suppose the Escobar population has suffered some kind of genetic mutation that means more female foetuses are conceived than male?” Ethan speculated the third night of their stay.  </p><p>“No, I think it is just we arrived at the same time as the Intergalatic Women’s Institute convention,” replied Terrence gently.  It took a minute for Ethan to recognise the look of pity on Terrence’s face.  How far they had come from that day they first met when Terrence had looked up to him as some sort of super-spy.  It was a relief a few days later when they transferred to the fast-ship to Beta Colony.  </p><p>Ethan felt reassured when issued the pamphlet with strict entry requirements when they docked, and a positively warm glow when he realised all the Beta Colony customs agents were male.  The freezer unit caused some difficulty, though.  </p><p>“Everything goes through the scanner,” said the security guard sternly, “no exceptions.” He looked suspiciously at the dozens of little white boxes neatly stacked inside the container.  </p><p>“But they are bio-materials,” Ethan protested.  “Scanning could be harmful.”  He exchanged a worried look with Terrence, thinking of those vulnerable ovarian cultures, temperature varied just sufficiently through unpacking and re-packing to restart cell division, subjected to potentially mutagenic effects from the scan beam….  “Is there no alternative?  Look, the seals are intact.” </p><p>“Bharaputra…,” the security guard’s voice trailed off as he frowned, “you came off that Barrayaran ship….”  He put his hand on his stunner reflexively, before barking what, all too clearly, was not really a question, “what’s a Bharaputra logo doing on cargo from a Barrayaran fast freighter?” </p><p>It was several hours before a weary Ethan finally checked in to the hotel and made his way up to his room where he knew Terrence would be waiting.  He had to steel himself to place his palm on the door lock, and paused several long moments as it slid aside, before, finally Ethan dared to enter.  </p><p>“They confiscated them,” Terrence said heavily.</p><p>“Not exactly,” Ethan replied. </p><p>“Then, where are they?” Terrence looked at the small hand luggage which was all Ethan carried, the freezer container conspicuous in its absence.</p><p>“The Betan Government Gene Repository – Oh, only for safe-keeping,” Ethan added hastily.  “I have the papers we can use to reclaim them before boarding transport back to Kline Station.”  He sat down on the bed, feeling utterly exhausted.  “But they simply would not hear of me bringing them to the hotel, even after their bioengineering specialist confirmed they weren’t a weapon.  There was talk, at one point, of destroying the cultures.”  Terrence’s sharp intake of breath echoed the horror Ethan had felt at the time.  “But in the end, they agreed that as long as they were kept safe under laboratory conditions, they wouldn’t insist on…,” Ethan gulped as he remembered the hostile expression on the Head of Security’s face, “<i>purging</i> them.”  </p><p>He remembered reading in a very old scientific journal about the genetic manuplations Betan scientists had made, all those may years ago, to the human genome to produce hermaphrodites.  Never would he had dreamt that a colony so radical as to develop a new human species would now take such a hard-line stance against genetic manipulation.  But from the moment their bio-specialist had confirmed that they were dealing with genetically altered ovarian cultures, Betan bureaucracy and legal jurisprudence had moved swiftly, first to confiscate and then seek a Court Order to destroy.  </p><p>Before leaving Athos, Ethan had never thought he would be grateful to a female.  However, then he had met Elli Quinn; and while he knew she had told him she was atypical, nonetheless, not knowing any other young women, he could not help but think of her as an archetype, with surprisingly positive impressions.  To this he had added Helga, a far less positive (even frightening) example of womanhood, but one whose personality and obsessions came a closer fit to what scriptures instructed about females.  Perhaps the degenerative influence of female biochemistry would, in time, render an older Elli Quinn an analogue of Helga?  (He did not like to think so but it was hard to interpret the holy book’s warnings any other way.)  Now he had met another female he felt…warmth toward.  </p><p>At first Ethan had been dismayed when told Port Security has called in a female scientist.  He had even protested, asking specifically for a male scientist, only to be met with blank stares of incomprehension on the part of officialdom, until someone thought to check his personal papers.  </p><p>“Athosian,” the immigration officer had said, “we don’t see many of you around these parts.”  He too had frowned, “in fact, none <i>ever</i> that I can remember.  Isn’t that the–”</p><p>“Fag planet,” the guard said helpfully to the supervisor who had been called for backup, “–they don’t believe in women.”  </p><p>He received repressive glower, before the Head of Security announced, almost as much to his subordinate as Ethan, “well, we won’t stand for any of your home-grown prejudices here.  You’re on Beta now and have to follow <i>our</i> laws.  It’s a woman on call and a woman you’ll get, and about time too.”  But he muttered the last and Ethan had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to have heard it.  </p><p>It was a good hour before a slight elderly figure was escorted to the room where they all waited.  To his surprise Ethan recognised her. </p><p>“Dr Naismith,” he murmured wonderingly.  What fate had God the Father intended, to have him read an article written by this female all those months ago on Athos, only now to have her the arbiter of the disposition of his ovarian cultures?  </p><p>And then, they were being introduced, and he was accompanying her to a climate-controlled laboratory where he watched anxiously while she followed proper sterile procedure in gowning and gloving and donning her face-shield before broaching the seal on the first little white container.   Followed by, to his delight and confusion, a lucid and cogently developed, erudite discussion with this knowledgeable fellow scientist about reproduction rates, and in-utero medical treatments, genetic splicing, mutagenic factors and genetic drift.  A serious discussion (she looked serious throughout, even though there were brief points where she smiled warmly at him, almost as if he were a star pupil); followed by an even more serious discussion with the Senior Customs Manager (who had been contacted by the Security Supervisor).  </p><p>And then, what had seemed difficult before morphed into nightmare as legal advice was taken and Ethan found himself talking to a lawyer (free, he was assured – Court-appointed for the accused – because Beta placed importance on due process) and in danger of being summarily sentenced to mandatory psychological therapy with all his ‘contraband genetic samples’ incinerated.  In the end, it was the testimony of Dr Naismith that had saved them – saved him – and after many confusing and terrifying hours, Ethan found himself released, and his ovarian cultures also released, but not to his care.  After hours of wrangling, he had been nothing but grateful to see them off accompanied by the amazing Dr Naismith in a security groundcar, clutching an appointment to see her at her office at the university the next afternoon.  </p><p>Ethan stumbled through this lengthy explanation to Terrence, who looked grave, and who, at the end, put his finger on perhaps the most worrying aspect of it all:</p><p>“Now there is a record Janine’s cultures were not destroyed – just how long do you think it will take the Cetagandans to find out and come after them?”  </p><p>Much to his surprise, the question of how to protect the precious ovarian cultures was the focus of discussion the next day when they spoke with Dr Naismith.  Had he been asked six months before whether he could ever envisage sharing anything sensitive and confidential with a female, Ethan would have had no hesitation in saying no.  But somehow, following an intelligent discussion about how the pineal receptor organ functioned (incorporating both a practical demonstration by Terrence, complete with brain scans, plus the examination of a blood sample under molecular microscope) Ethan found himself confiding their previous adventures on Kline Station.</p><p>“Dear me.” Dr Naismith paused before adding, “intergalactic espionage and adventure all sounds so very…energetic.  Much more the line of work my daughter’s family has gone in for, than my own.  I’m not sure I can help you very much with any of that, except, perhaps by <i>not</i> telling the Betan authorities and wishing you God’s-speed as soon as possible.  Though perhaps I can help with the latter, since I am Director of the Gene Repository and can expedite your application to buy - 200 was it–?” </p><p>Ethan shook his head sheepishly; it took all his strength to lift 4 fingers.</p><p>“400–”  </p><p>“No,” she paused as Ethan gestured again, “450 <i>different</i> human ovarian cultures,” she said sharply, “and <i>not</i> at the bargain basement price you paid for the Jacksonian product, which, though technically excellent, came with a dubious morality.”  </p><p>Never would Ethan have thought to be lectured in morality by a woman.  But then, so much of this galactic trip had challenged his pre-conceptions.  It was faintly reassuring to hear Dr Naismith still wished him God’s-speed, although he had an uneasy suspicion she was not praying to the same God he was.   </p><p>He sat dumbly, watching her tap on an electronic device for a few minutes before she announced.  “The Gene Repository can let you have 450 cultures for the price you offer – at cost – all from impeccable sources, all gene-cleansed, and all from human unisex females–”</p><p>At Ethan sudden startled gesture, she explained, “females, not hermaphrodites.”  His eyes widened; that had never occurred to him.  “Although if you were to introduce herms into your gene pool that might, in the long-term, resolve some of Athosian genetic diversity problems–”</p><p>Ethan’s silently horrified rejection was obvious.  </p><p>“But no, I can see that would not do for you; and unlike some,” she cast a critical glance at Terrence Cee, “the Beta Repository prides itself on its medical ethics.  Once you place the order, with payment, we can fill it within 10 days.  I trust that meets with your agreement?”  </p><p>Ethan nodded and fished in his jacket pocket for the credit chit.  </p><p>His next task was to book passage home; the last of his credit chit still had enough funds to book the two of them onto a slow freighter from Beta Colony to Kline Station the next day.  Money close to exhausted, Ethan had no idea how to pay for the overnight stay there, and just felt thankful the galactic census ship left for Athos only one day after the ship from Beta Colony docked.  Once their return journey was settled, Terrence took himself off to wander around the city, returning a few hours later to announce he had become an electrician’s mate.  </p><p>“Mate?” Ethan echoed.  “You’ve met someone?” Given Terrence’s focus on Janine, he was surprised.  </p><p>“Not that sort of mate,” Terrence explained.  “It’s a sort of apprentice, except this is strictly temporary while the man’s son, who is usually his helper, is on a jaunt to Escobar with his friends, celebrating passing his first level exams.  The son will be back the day after we leave, with some cash in hand instead of stony broke.” </p><p>Ethan spent his next ten days largely in his room, watching the public broadcast vids.  At first he ventured out once a day for exercise, taking a turn around a local park; but he found the local customs confusing at best and, at times, nerve-wracking.  After being taken to a local health centre for the third time suffering from an anxiety attack and flashbacks to his interrogation at the hands of Colonel Millisor, sparked by a confusing conversation with a friendly local, he gave up and stayed in.  He found a channel which broadcast re-mastered classics and immersed himself in ancient ‘movies’ about wars.  There was something reassuring about the camaraderie of squads of men invading by sea, or air battles, or escapes from POW camps (whatever they were).  He understood, of course, that the underpinning cause of historical conflicts was the pernicious influence of women; but even so, war seemed to have offered an opportunity for men to rise above the corrupt influence of females – to find some transcendental purpose.  He became particularly fond of <i>The Great Escape</i>.  </p><p>Their last morning on Beta passed in a rush, checking out of their hotel, picking up the freezer unit, now packed with the new Beta cultures as well as Janine’s.  After making a few last-minute purchases of reading materials for the trip, they boarded the Olbia Star, in Ethan’s case without a backward glance, although Terrence appeared almost sorry to say goodbye to his electrician employer who delivered a galactic credit chit with his pay to the dock.  </p><p>Once again, a trip on a no-frills freighter let Ethan catch-up on his reading; his purchase of scientific journals about genetics and neo-natal care had left him with a sense of living close to the edge.  In the past all such materials had had to be passed by the censor before being forwarded to him.  Ethan was his own censor now.  Again, Terrence signed on, this time as an electrical apprentice. </p><p>“Mitch didn’t come to dock just to give me my pay,” Terrence explained, “he put in a good word for me with the ship’s Chief Engineer.”  Ethan realised that by the time they transferred to the Athos census ship, in all likelihood Terrence would have passed another exam.  An electrician’s duties didn’t seem as onerous as trainee plumber’s, however, so he spent more time in the cabin on the trip back than he had outward bound.  It came as something of a surprise to Ethan when Terrence exhibited a passion for poetry.  They spent many a comfortable hour debating the merits of Dylan Thomas <i>versus</i> AE Housman.  </p><p>The first inkling of anything wrong was claxons blaring in the night cycle when the ship was only two weeks away from Kline Station.  It jolted both men from deep sleep. Terrence made a beeline for the freezer, slipping a few little white boxes into his nightrobe, before he handed four more to Ethan. But their cabin door would not open.  They looked at one another in alarm.  </p><p>“If the corridor has depressurised the door will not open; that’s a part of the ship’s safety systems,” Terrence reminded.</p><p>“But how could an inner corridor de-pressurise when the cabin is fine?  Besides,” Ethan whispered, “I can hear shouting out there.  There has to be atmosphere for the sound to carry.” </p><p>“I can hear a plasma gun,” Terrence said, as a scream rose high then cut off abruptly after loud pinging sounds, “and <i>that</i> was a needler.” </p><p>“Quick!” Ethan lifted the mattress of the bottom bunk, and fiddled with the screws to the sheet metal supports until he could lift the left side, “underneath.”  </p><p>“But you–”</p><p>“I’m just a harmless baby doctor.  Get <i>in</i>.”  </p><p>Ethan turned back to the freezer and swiftly transferred white boxes, neatly sealed with tape carrying the Bharaputra logo, from the storage unit to the space beneath the bottom bunk, before replacing the metal supports and mattress.  </p><p>He was just in time.  A loud bang heralded the cabin door being blown in and a helmeted and suited figure used his needler to gesture Ethan out to a scene of carnage, and push him down along the corridor.  He looked back briefly to see another suited figure using an anti-grav to steer the freezer unit.  He walked as slowly as he could.  (It wasn’t difficult his knees were shaking so.) Just before they reached the cargo portal something shoved him hard to one side and he went down heavily, slid into a bulkhead, and lay there feeling stunned and disoriented for a minute.  That was all it took.  He could hear the crackling sound of shots being fired and then…silence.</p><p>“Upsy-daisy, Dr Urquhart!”   It was a familiar voice, and he looked up to see Elli Quinn, unfamiliar in battle armour, holding out her right hand to him, while her left held the antigrav to the freezer unit.  </p><p>“What happened?”  </p><p>“Cetagandans,” she replied. “Well, not precisely Cetas.”   She gestured him forward. “Come with me; I need to report to the Admiral and you might as well join me.” </p><p>In sickbay, a little man sporting twin black eyes pushed the medic away and jumped down from the examining table the moment he spotted Elli.  </p><p>“Report, Commander.”  </p><p>“This is the man I was telling you about, Sir,” Quinn said crisply.  “Given what I know of the trouble he got into on Kline Station, plus the markings on his cabin door, and the way they tried to take Dr Urquhart off ship rather than cargo, I think it’s a good bet this lot were privateers commissioned by the Ceta’s rather than the pirates who’ve been harassing our employer.”  </p><p>“Yes, but why him?  I thought you said it was Terrence Cee they were after.”  </p><p>“And the cultures.” </p><p>“Which were destroyed.” </p><p>“Not if this portable freezer holds what I think it does.  Doctor – care to illuminate?” </p><p>Ethan stood very straight and still, trying furiously to come up with some explanation.  He never had been good at this kind of thing.  If you wanted slow and methodical, he was your man; thinking up plausible stories quickly on the fly was not something he normally needed to do at Sevarin District Reproduction Center.  </p><p>“Where is Terrence Cee, Dr Urquhart?” asked the Admiral. </p><p>There was no point in even trying; Ethan knew himself a very unconvincing liar at the best of times.  Besides, Quinn had been there at the beginning of this adventure and knew what the stakes were.  “In our cabin,” Ethan replied, “hidden under the bottom bunk, along with the Bharaputran cultures.  Those,” he pointed to the container beside Quinn, “are the Betan cultures we bought as smokescreen.” </p><p>“And you are still determined to go through with this…social experiment?” </p><p>Ethan took a deep breath before shrugging, “I have prayed long and hard and <i>dithered</i> back and forth.  Is this the right thing?  And yet, if it is wrong, why did God the Father place those cultures in my path, when they could have remained safely in storage, unnoticed and forgotten?  Those who founded Athos began a great social experiment from which I see only good arising; is this God’s intended next step?”  </p><p>“Indeed,” the Admiral looked momentarily startled at this philosophic reply, before he offered, “then, Dr Urquhart, given the ruined state of the pirate ship, I think I have a solution.”</p><p>It was a busy hour later when the Dendarii Mercenaries detached the last of their clamps and personnel flex tubes from the freight portal and pushed off to tow the crippled privateer a safe distance away.  Repairs were still being made to the Olbia Star, but the cargo ship was spaceworthy.  The dead had been moved to the attacker’s ship, along with a battered freezer unit with its door blown off, and some melted and blackened small plastic boxes.  The Olbia now began to get underway once more; with a bit of luck, she would be perhaps only a half-day late in her scheduled arrival at Kline Station.  Terrence Cee and Dr Urquhart watched through a small window in the mess hall as the Dendarii flagship, receding rapidly, seemed to pivot into position, aimed, and fired two torpedoes into the hulk, blowing out its sides.  </p><p>Ethan sighed, “it all seems a bit redundant, blowing up the dead.”  </p><p>“Not if you know the Cetagandan military as I do,” said Terrence grimly, “and, it seems, as that little Admiral does.  Not when I want Janine’s cultures to be safe.” </p><p>“And Athos,” said Ethan sadly.  He could never forget the casual way Millisor and Rau had talked about bombing the reproduction centers.  “Come on, we have new labels to prepare and genetic histories to develop.” </p><p>And they turned away from the window in harmony.</p>
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